


A Lot To Say

by rarepairsinmycup



Series: Building A Home [7]
Category: Bleach
Genre: Crying, Families of Choice, Feelings, Ficlet, Foster Care, Gen, Series, Therapy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-31
Updated: 2018-07-31
Packaged: 2019-06-19 02:01:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15499848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rarepairsinmycup/pseuds/rarepairsinmycup
Summary: Izuru has his first session with Doctor Yoruichi Shihouin.





	A Lot To Say

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I claim no ownership over 'Bleach' nor am I profiting from this.

Izuru bites his lower lip and searches for somewhere he can watch. It's not his original trick. It comes from a much older foster sibling with experiences in both dodging and receiving punishments. Their simplest trick: focus on a spot, make it the focal point, and nod along with whatever the parent says. 

Unfortunately, experienced caseworkers and foster parents know every trick. Sometimes, a new one can make it a month before someone catches on and shares the news. Every cool superhero seems to have some tragic backstory, which means he should be due for something. 

Izuru would even take the uncool powers as long as it removes him from this situation. 

Yoruichi watches him with catlike golden eyes. Her hair has been slicked back into a tight ponytail, one which he doubts anything can escape from. Her office doesn't smell like fresh carpet, coffee, or perfume. It has no scent as far as he can tell. 

“I don't know what to say,” he murmurs and gives a tight shrug. “I always have my brother and sister do that.”

“I think you have a lot to say.” Yoruichi clicks her pen. “Sometimes, the best thing is beginning simple and getting to know one another. I can go first should you like.”

Izuru focuses on his knees and nods. His throat is beginning to feel thick and warm. When does she start asking those questions? He hasn't done any rehearsal for those. He knows other children have worse homes, worse situations, but it doesn't stop his feeling empty even in the nice houses. 

“I'll begin with three things. I don't have any pets, but a stray cat that hangs around the house is determined I should adopt her. My favorite color is orange and even own some pens with orange ink.”

His voice is shaky and wet. “I like green, but my favorite greens make me think about spring. I get scared when people start drinking…”

Her pen does bleed orange as she scrawls something onto her notepad. Is he in trouble now? Who does she share this with? His heart thumps against his rib cage, and he wonders whether its possible to jump through his body and onto the ground. 

“How come you get scared?” 

Her pen goes still. His back and underarms are becoming wet and sticky. Who will unpeel him from this chair? Please don't make him be the first person to have sweat through a shirt and onto the chair. 

“I can't remember a lot,” he whispers. “I know my mom went to sleep and wouldn't wake up. I always asked my dad what really happened, but he never wanted to answer.” 

“I imagine her passing was extremely difficult on you both,” she says gently. “What was your father like after she passed?” 

“He became nocturnal.” He winces and grips the chair arms. “He would scream because I couldn't find some lost thing. I don't think it existed, because we never found it, but he would scream and cry whenever we couldn't…”

He doesn't intend on crying here. He doesn't intend on crying in the car. Tears are supposed to be saved for a private, shameless place. Izuru grips the chair arms until his fingers go numb, bows his head towards his lap, and begins sobbing. 

Is there a trick for when this happens? Is this when the superpowers finally kick in? At this moment, he's willing to take anything. 

Anything is someone rubbing his back, whispering encouragements, and asking he take a deep breath. 

“I might not have music right now,” Tessai whispers. “I can always try and do a violin impression, though. Would you pass those tissues, Yoruichi?”

Tessai grabs too many, waiting until he finds the composure to raise his head before pressing them into his hand. Yoruichi gives them as much privacy as her small office space allows. Her focus remains on the clock as he sniffles and wipes his now flushed face.

“We can have a short session this week,” she says. “Thank you for opening up, Izuru. I realize how difficult it was, but look forward to hearing what else you have to say.” 

Grateful, he gives his face another wipe down and nods. He better come up with some excuse for his flushed face before they get home. 

-

Tessai settles for the usual familiar violin music. His driving is slower than normal, and he wants to promise he won't be carsick, but he knows better than to promise that. He presses his forehead against the cool window and takes a deep shaky breath. 

“I realize you must have questions,” Tessai says. “People without experience in our field always have questions. Their concern usually focuses on why some children get services before others. What makes them take precedence over other children?”

“What do you tell them?” 

“I’ll never change anyone's view on the system through lies. I share the unfortunate truth: we don't have enough people to go around. A child with medical needs will receive services sooner than someone without. Now, some caseworkers have connections and use those to their advantage.” 

“How come no one is helping Toshiro? He needs help, too.” 

“Isane is doing her best to find someone; we’re all doing our best,” he promises. “I was once roommates with Yoruichi and our friend, Kisuke. Do you know what truly bonded us? Every finals week, we would pool our money and buy as many snacks as possible. It was never anything healthy either. It was always comfort foods. We would eat too much, study, and usually end the night in tears while stressing that we would fail our tests.” 

“You never panic, though.”

“I panicked over everything. I feared to leave the house and lost interest in everything. I would sleep for hours until someone got home. Were it not for hers and Kisuke's persistence and love, I would've remained in that state and not become anything more.” 

“I don't know what to tell her.” 

“I know; opening up takes time, especially when it comes to strangers. I won't promise it gets easier in the next session, but she genuinely wants to help you otherwise she wouldn't have chosen this work. I imagine she isn't the only one that wants to hear what you have to say.” 

Izuru gives his face one more check before going inside. His cheeks have thankfully gone from red into pink, but the puffiness is still obvious. Tessai gives him what he must believe is a reassuring smile meant to promise everything will be fine. 

“I don't know how well it can go,” he warns. “I promise to try sharing, though.” 

“I'm extremely proud, more than you will ever know.”

His hopefulness is small and tender, but he remains determined to keep it no matter what he encounters inside. 

-

Izuru knows one certain from living in this house. 

Juushiro does what he can to maintain the cleanliness, which usually happens once everyone else goes to bed and when his health allows it. 

Now, it appears their house has consumed everything, became nauseous and vomited in the living room. 

Toshiro sits among the carnage, playing with some mismatched socks. Juushiro lies on the couch, his hair freed from its usual braid. It hangs over the couch arm, long and shiny. 

“I don't mean to be rude,” he says carefully. “What happened? Where is everyone else?”

“Shunsui's running errands, Momo is organizing her room, and I believe she dragged Renji into helping. How was it? Do you like the doctor?” 

“I’m still deciding.” Izuru shrugs and glances towards Toshiro. “I should've warned you when we got here. Toshiro couldn't care less about toys that are shiny or sing. Toshiro loves simple things like playing with clothes or squeezing something that can respond.” 

“I didn't know that.” Juushiro sits up with an excited glimmer in his eyes. “Does he have a particular favorite? Does he ever respond to them?”

“I mean, he tries answering them. Sometimes he squeezes them for another response, pets them. I've caught him making noises before, but real words never come out. I can always tell you more – should you want.”

“I’d love to hear some more.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading, guys!


End file.
